Insight

MY NEEDS MATTER
Growing up, I was conditioned via criticism, shaming, and punishment to believe it was selfish to have wants, preferences, and even needs. I learned to put others first, ignore my own well-being, and feel guilty for even having unmet needs. I also naturally became quite resentful of those who happily availed themselves of my selfless services while evidently having no such sense of the need to serve and please.

It has taken a long damn time to figure out why this is the recipe for a giant batch of simmering resentment, one of the most corrosive substances I know, eating away at me from the inside, souring pleasure, poisoning relationships.

For many years of adulthood, I assumed the antidote was for other people to take more responsibility. That turned out to be a false assumption. To shift the dynamic, I had to break my inner rules for survival and work on being less of a people-pleaser.

My one small thing is really pretty darn big today. As my own boss, I gave myself two full weeks off at the end of the year. Today I head out to the little farmhouse in the country for a 9-day year-end/birthday retreat to review, reflect, renew, and reset myself for the year ahead. For the first five days I will have absolutely no one else to consider but myself, a precious opportunity to honor my own preferences and rhythms.

See you when I get back!

BOTH SIDES NOW
For a number of years, I have been doing Insight video visits from my very small apartment, allocating part of my living room for a chair and music stand which serve the dual function of music practice area and video chat space. Since I live and work in the same building, I see no sense in paying for Internet in both spaces, so this is an economy.

I do a lot of little things like that to make it possible to live frugally while engaged in soulful work that enriches me immensely, and I sometimes notice places where I could make my life a little easier and more pleasurable without undue expense. Such was the case this week when I realized I could improve the aesthetic appeal of the view at which I am looking while my peers look at me and my bookshelf.

This is my one small thing, the pleasure I took in decorating my music stand with a gorgeous new tie-dyed bandanna and meaningful objects that help me hold sacred space, and the joy I will continue to derive from caring about my side of the experience.

THE GIFT OF VULNERABILITY
A month or so ago, I had a less than optimal interaction with a young neighbor who was doing some work on the vacant apartment across the hall from me. It had been on my mind and heart to follow up with him a bit later to talk about what had unfolded and to make some constructive clarifications about my hopes for our future interactions, but our paths didn’t cross. I suspect he may have been avoiding me.

My one small thing for today is the vulnerability I allowed to show when we finally did talk. He led with an apology and I told him I’d been wanting to talk to him, to make sure we had a neighborly understanding.

“I have a trauma history,” I found myself sharing, “and I wouldn’t be surprised if you did too. I understand we humans who’ve been harmed can sometimes be sensitive and reactive.” By then I had tears in my eyes and I don’t even know exactly what I said next, but I do know it was from my heart.

“Yes,” he agreed. And then his next words—also from his heart—surprised me. “Much love to you.”

And I instinctively folded my hands in front of my heart and offered him a little bow before going on my way.